


Blood in the water

by westenralucy (queenex)



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, F/F, Forever, Immortality, Jeremiah is evil but what's new, Kissing, Knifeplay, Love, Vampires, no actual plot, slight BDSM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-07-15 15:04:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16065635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenex/pseuds/westenralucy
Summary: "And there came the stillness, again, everything disappears except the two arms and the comfortable shoulder he’s leaned on. He barely has any strength to say no anymore and he knew it was the end. He could feel Jeremiah kissing his neck again, so soft and wet, he sucked the flesh in as if testing the taste of it, and maybe he was."Jeremiah needs to make sure Bruce is his. His forever,





	1. Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading another vampire fanfiction of B and J, I appreciate all you feedback and sorry if there are any mistakes, haven't corrected the work yet.

But how quiet can it get?

This quiet.

And Bruce is almost silently begging inside for just a move of air, a breath, a sound, anything. The materialistic world doesn’t seem to exist anymore, not here, not with Jeremiah. He isn’t even sure if he can feel the ground under his feet. He makes sure that he can by squirming his toes in his sweaty shoes and he’s not sure for what exact reason that is. Fear? Fascination? Excitement? Or maybe something in between? But certainly not something you can put in words.

It’s an electric touch that brings back the awareness of the reality, cold fingers curling into Bruce’s relaxed ones. He doesn’t fight. Doesn’t move. Does he even breathe?

“You are… So calm.” As cold as the fingers voice says from behind. Only then does Bruce realise that Jeremiah is holding his right hand’s his thumb on his wrist, feeling the indeed calm pulse. The other one was caressing his hair, pulling them slightly and exposing the pale neck that would get attacked with kisses. Every time the pale man’s lips connect Bruce lets out a barely noticeable gasp, something only someone who’s as close as Jeremiah can feel. And it’s the only thing keeping him conscious, the soft pull of air, the pump of his heart.

Jeremiah’s scent is irresistible. Something of vanilla and verbena, a bit of citrus, soft and pleasing yet dangerous and exciting. Bruce’s head falls back as he wants to smell more of him, feel more of him. Jeremiah is secretly happy for Bruce finally giving in, finally giving up the control and letting the tension go. His fingers release the bony wrist, travels up man’s arm up to his shoulder. Now his arm is warped all around Bruce’s chest, holding him as if he was a hostage. As he applies slight pressure to his hand, Bruce squirms and flinches forward, feeling locked in. It’s a sign of panic that Jeremiah certainly doesn’t want.

“There is nothing to fear, Bruce.” Jeremiah breathes softly into the other’s neck, feeling the shiver under his lips.

As convincing as Jeremiah tried to be, Bruce still wanted to feel free and pushed forward again, as if being locked in a cage and seeking for the key behind the bars. But he should have realized how pointless it is to try and resist someone as needy as Jeremiah. Everything that he claims or considers his, is his.

“Why are you trying to run, Bruce? What makes you think that after escaping this grip you won’t get into another one?” Jeremiah asks, soothingly circling Bruce’s shoulder with his fingers. “Destiny is such a thing, you see. You may be able to escape me, but you can’t escape your destiny, your true self. It will always find you. Always. And it happens to be that I am your destiny. We were meant for each other, I feel it. And I know you feel it too, but I don’t quite understand why you are putting on such a fight.”

Bruce tries to hide the affection the other has on him. His words are hypnotizing, sinking into his mind, filling it.

“One moment you seem to finally give in, you let me hold you, you let me kiss you, you make those soft gasps, oh you know how fascinating you can be, but then… Your fear comes back, what is it? What are you afraid of?”

So many questions, Bruce thinks. And he doesn’t know answers to any of those.

“Is it the change that scares you? The pain? The aftermath? The forever, what is it, Bruce, you need to talk to me.” Jeremiah releases the pressure slightly, giving Bruce more space. His left hand leaves the dark curls and encourages Bruce to lay his head on Jeremiah’s shoulder, he knew it would be comfortable for Bruce since he’s shorter than him.

“It’s… everything.” Bruce whispers. There is no need to talk loudly when there is barely any free space between the two.

“Oh, but there shouldn’t be anything scary about having a free, independent life, Bruce. The change is the most… unpleasant part, I would say. But I have to admit, with the reactions I’ve been getting from you recently I wouldn’t say that you find this very unpleasant, now am I wrong?” Jeremiah teases and Bruce can feel his teeth brushing against his neck as Jeremiah smiles. The bastard knew he was right. He always was.

Bruce lets the words sink in, as always. There is something so… unnatural about Jeremiah. Bruce feels a need to agree with everything he says even though at the back of his head he still wants to fight. But he can’t. There is nothing to fight for. He was right. Jeremiah was right. _He always was_.

Bruce releases a shaky breath, shutting his eyes close.

“Is it… painful?” He asks.

“Don’t be like that, Bruce, you and I both know that you are somewhat of a masochist, just a little bit. You will definitely find another word to describe this, something that starts with p, too.” Jeremiah giggles. Bruce knew there was no point in denying him, especially when he knew that there was truth in Jeremiah’s words.

And there came the stillness, again, everything disappears except the two arms and the comfortable shoulder he’s leaned on. He barely has any strength to say no anymore and he knew it was the end. He could feel Jeremiah kissing his neck again, so soft and wet, he sucked the flesh in as if testing the taste of it, and maybe he was. His mouth travels towards Bruce’s Adam’s apple. He bites on it that way gets a moan out of the other.

The teasing continues for some time, Jeremiah rewards the other side of Bruce’s neck too. But then comes something different. Bruce gasps as one of the kisses is harder and he can feel too sharp canines joining it, too. He arches his back even more, finding Jeremiah’s arm under his shoulder and digging his nails into it as he knows what to expect.

“So sad that I can only taste you once, Bruce Wayne.” He whispers into his flesh and pulls away. Bruce is slightly relieved but then... A sharp and sudden pain in his neck makes the tension come back.

Bruce moans louder than he thought that he would. He can feel his skin getting wet from his own blood, the liquid leaving his body and traveling into Jeremiah’s. It’s only the first few pulls that are painful but then, no surprise, Bruce understands what Jeremiah meant by the other p word.

It’s a newly discovered feeling. Pleasure has never felt so pleasurable and nor has pain. There is no way to describe this sensation, dying shouldn’t feel so good, but oh it does. Oh it does and at the moment it’s all that Bruce wants. He even unintentionally presses himself harder into Jeremiah’s canines , deepening the wound, making more blood flow, but he doesn’t care. There is nothing to lose. There is no way to lose this. Only win.

Jeremiah joins Bruce’s moans. It really will be a sad forever without another taste of Bruce’s blue blood, he thinks.

He would want this to last forever, the flow of the so sweet nectar, but sadly the amount of blood in boy’s body is limited and Jeremiah can feel how empty Bruce is becoming. The heart slowing down, the breathes getting calmer and not so deep.

Jeremiah pulls away, not feeling Bruce’s presence anymore. He was getting cold. His chest not rising anymore. Oh, what a thing to lose. But it’s impossible to compare it the opportunities that just opened up for the new born couple. And it’s for forever.

 _Forever_.


	2. Good morning and goodnight

It’s hard for a mortal human being to understand. To understand what a life worth is. What a huge opportunity it is for a soul to grow, learn, teach. So many of them waste it on little nothings, concentrate on problems and negativity instead of looking for something beautiful, something that is worth living or… worth dying.

Bruce was different. He had his feet on the ground. He always thought of his purpose in this world but he was weighing on the wrong side of the scale and Jeremiah knew that this was the only way to wake Bruce up. And he was sure he did.

The streets of Gotham are marvelous at night. The moon as the only source of the light, the wind the only sound, so softly brushing Jeremiah’s nose and messing up Bruce’s dark curls. Jeremiah was carrying the boy somewhere beautiful, to make him feel the power that he now has, to make him understand that he lost nothing. Certainly, there were going to be… some difficulties, such as Alfred. _Oh, the man was always in the way_ , Jeremiah thought. He even grinned when he thought of Bruce sinking his fangs into the old man’s neck and draining all the life out of him, but shrugged slightly when realized how unrealistic the scenario was. Interesting and ironic, however.

Jeremiah fantasised about Bruce’s first kill or should we say, feed? One doesn’t have to kill to get satisfied, but the level of satisfaction depends on how much you take. And it’s not just the amount of blood. Holding someone’s life, that fascinatingly beautiful fragility, be the judge and decide who lives, who dies, that is the real satisfaction. But Jeremiah had his hopes too high here, Bruce wouldn’t go this far the first time, but he has all the forever to discover this new sensation.

Jeremiah finally comes across Gotham’s most beautiful place. The roses park. In the dark almost all of the whites and yellows became black, however the red ones remain as red as they were, the queens. He finds a place to sit down, a bench that looks like no one has sit on it for years, but it was perfect for the purpose. The bench was long enough for Jeremiah to comfortably sit on it and for Bruce to lay.

Jeremiah glances at his watch. 2:45 a.m. It’s been almost an hour since Bruce’s death and he should wake up soon. He’s just as excited as he thought he would be and this is rare for Jeremiah Valeska. Excitement, fascination (by humans), love, affection, those are uncommon for him. And that made him even more nervous.

A sudden intake of breath, as sharp as a blade makes Jeremiah jump. Bruce wakes up with his eyes full of terror as if he just had the worst nightmare of all. He almost bumps his head into Jeremiah but he catches the panicking boy and grabs his shoulders to make him face him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” He says softly and shakes Bruce a little to make his words more believable though he himself knew the confusion of waking up… dead. “It’s okay, look at me, Bruce, you are fine.” He assures him.

Bruce’s mouth is open and he looks like a person who doesn’t know how to breathe. He takes one breath through his nose, then through the mouth. His terrified eyes find Jeremiah’s and his gaze suddenly calms him down. It’s an overwhelming and weird feeling, he can feel himself in Jeremiah’s eyes, he can hear Jeremiah’s mind commanding him to calm down, relax, breathe. And he does.

“It’s the bond.” Jeremiah explains, understanding what is so confusing to the boy. “I made you so I will have some… powers over you. I can summon you, I can calm you down, I can feel your presence. Lets say it’s… something like your mortal mother.”

Bruce pushes Jeremiah away angrily, panicking even more. His eyes got as wide as an owl’s and his mouth dropped as if he saw a ghost.

“So you did this just so you can control me?!” He yells throwing his hands up and jumping off the bench. Before Jeremiah could protest and stop him, Bruce is already walking towards the exit of the park.

“Stop right there, Bruce Wayne!” Jeremiah yells from a distance. He didn’t even bother chasing him.

Bruce was close to leaving but when the words reached him he couldn’t do anything but obey. He turned around to face his maker.

“I don’t see why we would need to fight like this, Bruce. I do not want to use the bond to get along with you. I understand your need to protest, your fear and confusion but please stay focused, I need you focused tonight.” Jeremiah explains.

Bruce doesn’t say anything, just stares into Jeremiah’s pale eyes from the distance and only then notices his super vision. Every detail of Jeremiah’s face looked 8D, he could see every single hair on his head, spot a pale blue vein under his skin. It was amazing. As a new born baby discovering his abilities.

“I will tell you about everything, Bruce. Everything. But we have business and I want you calm for this, okay?” Jeremiah says calmly, gesturing Bruce to come closer. He doesn’t trust him first but is still curious what exactly Jeremiah has in mind.

Every step he takes is so loud and high pitched, he can hear people talk and can’t tell if it’s right here, in the park, or somewhere in the building. It’s scary and chilling.

Jeremiah meets Bruce with his arms open. “I need you to check your teeth, Bruce. You must get blood tonight otherwise you might be too weak to make it through the day. The sun won’t burn you, you can totally function during the day but for that you need to be replete. So, please check if you already have sharper canines or not?” Jeremiah asks politely. Bruce shivers. He isn’t fascinated by the thought of hurting someone at all, but his stomach is indeed empty.

He carefully checks his canine teeth and is surprised when finds them sharper than he thought they would, almost cutting himself. From Bruce’s reaction Jeremiah understands that he is ready for his first meal. His evil smile scares Bruce more than the feeding itself.

“I won’t pressure you on your first time. We’ll find someone who will be able to handle a bigger blood loss and later glamour them, how does that sound to you?” Bruce raises an eyebrow.

“Glamour you mean… like hypnotize?”

“Well, not exactly, but if you want to call it that, so be it. Yes, from now you’ll be able to get into people’s minds and be able to see things, feel what they feel and control those emotions. You can’t use this on others like us though unless you make someone, then you can.” He explains, guiding Bruce towards the exit.

“So, you can use this on me?” Bruce asks.

“I can, yes. But now that you aware of it please don’t make me do it. Besides, you have some powers related to me, too.” Jeremiah points out and Bruce just can’t hide the curiosity on his face. Jeremiah chuckles. “Yes. You can feel whenever I’m nearby, you can also sense  
my emotions and thoughts if you really want to. You will know if I’m in danger and will be able to find me if I let you to.” He explains.

Bruce has never been out this late. Or should we say, early. Empty and dark streets, the cold air and skyscrapers looking spookier than ever, at the same time he’s fascinated by how calm this busy goddamn city can become. are barely any lights in the streets, but he doesn’t need those with his super vision. He can spot any little trash on the floor, see a fly in the air. It’s a new yet the same Gotham.

The abandoned buildings and smell revealed where the two were going. Narrows.

“Sorry that you won’t be able to taste that thick blue blood of the rich like you tonight, Bruce, but I will find something sufficient for you. Maybe someone AB positive, though that’s rare, I want you to have the best experience tonight.” He smirks.

That evil grin again, Bruce hated it. He never understood Jeremiah’s lack of humanity and he always thought that it only was because he was human, but here he is, still trying to understand the ways of this madman. It was certainly time to give up.

“You can sense blood types?”

“Well, yes, in a way. But it’s only after you’ve tried them all. There is a minor difference but I’m sure you will find the one you enjoy the most.”

“I don’t even know what my blood type is…” Bruce mumbles to himself.

“Oh, you are a rare one, my friend. I could taste that bitter of B-negative on my tongue even before the first time I kissed you.”

Bruce was going to say something as his mouth shaped into a form of O, but he saw a dark shadow moving slowly across the street. There was smoke in the air as the middle aged man they came across was smoking a pipe, coughing loud. Jeremiah snapped his fingers.

“A treasure.” He gloats. “Now, I am going to get on with my plan, but I think this is a perfect opportunity for you to learn the art of what you call hypnosis. Are you willing to do so?” Jeremiah asks, his look serious and cold. He was taking the thing more seriously than Bruce and it was scary. Even more scary was that Bruce wasn’t feeling like complaining about this. He was willing to obey Jeremiah, drink blood of the innocent human, oh the idea of it! First time of tasting blood.

Jeremiah is quick. He instructs Bruce to walk behind him as he takes the lead and waves at the man.

“Sir, is there any way you have a lighter?” He asks and before the man could even reach out to his pocket or say a word, unnaturally fast Jeremiah presses him against the concrete wall behind them, leaving him no way of escape and silencing the man with his hand. Bruce can see his protests, feel the waves of panic radiating out of the helpless human. He keeps squirming and kicking Jeremiah and Bruce wants so badly to help him. But he can’t. And he doesn’t know why but he wishes that it’s just the bond, there is nothing he can do, right?

“Shh, look at me,” Jeremiah speaks to his victim. “look at me, I can make this good for you, hm?” He suggests, but the man doesn’t seem to believe. Then Jeremiah simply uses the hand on his mouth to forcefully turn his head and make his eyes snap open. It’s all that was needed to stop the protests. “There you go. Shhh. Don’t scream for me now, okay? My friend wants to have a few words with you.” Jeremiah says and makes sure he gets a nod from him before turning to Bruce and gesturing him to come closer. He considers it, there was still a way to avoid this, maybe he changed his mind? But he didn’t. Even if he did, there is no place to go, nowhere to run and there is nothing that he can escape.

“Bruce. If you listen just a tiny bit more carefully you can hear his heartbeat, can’t you?” Bruce shuts his eyes close and tries to hear it. First there is nothing but the wind. He tries again putting more effort into it and this time he can hear somewhat of a drum. An unintentional smile on his face pleases Jeremiah. “Good. Now, deeper, go deeper into him, imagine the heartbeat as the first layer, after you peel that off you can sense his emotions.” And Bruce tries. “Yes, can you sense that silent terror?” Jeremiah asks with such deep passion in his voice. He steps behind Bruce, puts his hands on his hips and pushes him forward. “Now, look him in the eye and connect with him. Think of some command and see what happens.”

Bruce is anxious to do it but he obeys. His eyes snap open and straight in front of him there are two, pale blue other ones. Such fear and panic there, confusion and sadness. Bruce couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he must.

“This will only hurt for a moment and then it all be over, I promise.” He whispers. Jeremiah was silently gloating inside behind Bruce’s back, digging his fingers into the thick material of Bruce’s clothes.

“Be gentle, he is so innocent. Try the lower part of the neck, pierce it softly and then… Well, heaven is closer than you think.”

Bruce isn’t sure if he could hear Jeremiah’s words as he fell into a trans. Suddenly the vein in man’s neck became so thick and deliciously smelling that he couldn’t help but lower his head. He sniffs and thinks again of turning back, but he doesn’t. He uses his fangs to cut through the soft, thin flesh, letting the hot liquid boiled by fear pour into his mouth. Suddenly Jeremiah’s words become crystal clear to him. Heaven. It was heaven. The blood was filling every cell in his body, the fear was a good asset to it and he could literally taste it on his tongue.

_Who could have thought that killing can feel so good._


	3. The art of forgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah and Bruce are not getting along as well as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who could have known that I wanted to write more of this? Well, this chapter is shorter because I wanted to separate Bruce's come back home from everything else.

Bruce appeared to be a slow but greedy drinker. Jeremiah thought he might have gotten that from him as vampires are quick to learn from their makers and they might even adopt some of their characteristics. Jeremiah was a talented mind reader and if he tries very hard he can see mini future visions and it really helps his work since planning and strategy is a huge part of it. He was hoping that it’s something that Bruce would learn from him as now he’s a father to him, a teacher, family. They are now connected and there is nothing that can tear them apart, _nothing_.

Jeremiah is trying to keep track of the man’s vitals as Bruce is lost in the newly discovered level of satisfaction and pleasure and doesn’t seem to care anymore about anything else. And as much as Jeremiah would love to see him swallow the very last drop of the other’s blood he knew he would get attacked for it later so he brushes his lips near Bruce’s ear, so softly and gently that they looked like long time lovers with Jeremiah’s hands on his hips, hair messy and silent moans that Bruce was trying to suppress.

“You need to stop now, sweet, you will regret this later and we don’t want that.” He says, lightly pushing Bruce back. He doesn’t give in so easily, leaning even more into the blood flow on the neck, almost panting now. Jeremiah sighs and uses his super power to disattach him from the weakening man.

“You are learning quickly, but I advise you not to kill so early as that will make you regret your existence and all that crap.” He explains holding Bruce by the collar of his coat. “Remember the glamour? You can also use it to change his feelings. Make him believe that his wound doesn’t hurt, that he hasn’t lost any blood and that this never happened. It will be easier for both of you.”

Bruce’s head is throbbing, he can barely focus on any words as he can practically feel the blood filling his body and making him more powerful, so full and strong. At the back of his mind somewhat of what might be conscience is screaming ‘ _help him_ ’, _‘come on, make it stop_ ’ and he doesn’t know if he would listen to that voice if not for Jeremiah commanding him to glamour the man. It’s scary. So scary. What is he turning into?

He focuses on the slower and frantic heartbeat, the rushing thoughts and mixed emotions of his victim and pushes himself into his consciousness. He does it so professionally quickly that Jeremiah’s eyes widened.

“Calm down,” He starts. “You won’t remember anything that happened to you tonight, you don’t know where you hurt yourself, but it doesn’t hurt now, does it?” He spells out every word so clearly, as if he would be talking to someone who’s not a native speaker and doesn’t know the language well.

The man nods in agreement, eyes still fixed on Bruce. Jeremiah looked at his boy with fascination, proudness. Who could have thought that Bruce Wayne was such a badass?

Bruce reaches down for man’s gloved hand, instructing him to press on the wound and urges him to go. He obeys Bruce’s request and walks away as if it was just a regular evening, taking his pipe out again.

Jeremiah claps his hands.

“Well well, who could have thought that Bruce Wayne himself would get this greedy, hm?”

“Stop, Jeremiah.” Bruce pushes his hands that were reaching for his hair away. “I am not proud of what I just did. At all.”

“Really? I would say that you were superb and quite loved that, judging from the sounds you were making. See, I love this about you. You can enjoy both; hurting others and being hurt. That’s a whole new thing to me.” Jeremiah compliments him but Bruce doesn’t even look back at him as he turns to leave.

“Where do you think you are going, sweet?” Jeremiah starts chasing him. Bruce was quite far away at this point but he stopped and turned around to look at Jeremiah dramatically.

“I could feel him dying, Jeremiah!” Bruce spills out the disappointment. He knew there were tears forming in his eyes. “Literally, in my arms I could feel him fading away and the worst is that… I wanted him to die. I wanted to drain him to the last drop, be there until the last beat of his heart, oh damn it, that pounding was driving me crazy, Jeremiah!” He throws his hands up, not holding back the tears anymore. He felt like a teen again. And in a way he was, vampire’s change isn’t an easy process, it’s just like a transformation from a child to an adult.

“I heard it in his thoughts, he was begging me to stop and I couldn't and it's all because of you!’’ He spits. 

Jeremiah was unimpressed, however he knew he can’t be cruel with Bruce. He needed to at least act sorry, otherwise he might as well go crazy.

“I understand you, Bruce, but you need to stay with me! You must. You won’t survive on your own. You can’t.”

Bruce sighs and keeps walking.

“Bruce, stop. Please.” Jeremiah Valeska… begging? Big news tonight.

“I am going home, Jeremiah!” He yells from a distance and Jeremiah face palms so hard, annoyed.

“No you are not! You will slaughter everyone there and later pin it on me!” Jeremiah chases him again and soon is in front of Bruce due to his supernatural speed. Bruce almost bumps into him.

“I already explained that I don’t want to use our bond to make us get along. Well, lets let the mistakes do it then.” He wipes the dust of his shoulder and looks at Bruce’s bloody chin.

“How dare you think that I’d hurt Alfred!” Bruce rages, his voice all gurgling as he cries.

“I don’t think anything, Bruce.” Jeremiah sighs, turning his feet and getting ready to go. “But I recommend cleaning your face up before you go, hm?” He laughs somewhere in the shadows and vanishes.

 _Devil_.


	4. What needs to be learned

On his way home Bruce does nothing but thinks. He doesn’t look up to the road, he doesn’t care if a car hits him or some poor citizen tries to rob him. Nothing can be nearly as bad as enjoying other’s suffering. Oh, he’s disgusted by himself and he wishes he could blame it all on Jeremiah, but he was the one to pull him away, he was the one to stop him from taking it all. Of course, it was for selfish reasons, but if it wasn’t for him Bruce would now be responsible for a murderer.

Murderer.

The word echoes in his mind and calls out more tears. He takes out a dirty wipe out of his coat pocket and tries to clean off the dry blood off his chin and at this point he doesn’t even care if someone sees him or not. All he wanted was to keep Alfred safe. Yes, Alfred would always do the same for Bruce. He wouldn’t leave him for any reason, he was always strong for his boy and now Bruce feels responsible. In a way, if you think about it, he is now superior to him. If he really wanted he could easily drain him as he did the other man and there would be nothing that could stop him. Even his conscience couldn’t. Now the lust of blood was stronger than that and he doesn’t what’s worse; the fact that he doesn’t indeed know how to survive or the fact that he doesn’t know if he wants to survive? Maybe he should just stay here until the sunrise and test if it’s really harmless? Challenge the myths and drink holy water? Go to church and look a priest in the eye?

The Wayne manor was outside the city and a regular human being wouldn’t just walk there on feet but Bruce thought he deserved to suffer at least this. However, he got there faster than expected. He had no idea what Alfred is going through, he was gone all night with no notice, he didn’t leave a letter or warn him, what if he got to the GCPD? Oh Jesus, he didn’t even know what time it was! He had damned Jeremiah in his mind at least a hundred times now, if it was even possible to make him more evil.

He sneaks in through a secret entry as the gates were closed and he didn’t have the keys. He felt something flip in his stomach, something that must have been anxiety before knocking at the door.

He doesn’t need to knock again as he gets Alfred to open the door in a moment and oh my….

He looked terrible. He still had his pajamas on, holding earbuds in his hands. The terror and panic in his face quickly changed when he eyed Bruce and rushed into a hug, panting.

“Master B!” He exhales, relieved. “Bruce, bloody hell, why are you out so late, come on in, it’s freezing outside!” He urges him to come in, opening the door wider.

Bruce’s anxiety and shame doesn’t let him say anything. He throws a smile at Alfred but can’t tell how believable it is. Fool.  
He steps into the warm house, takes off his shoes with his trembling hands. Alfred is quick to help him remove his coat and gets him a blanket. Poor man doesn’t even know that he doesn’t feel cold. But he accepts it gladly, letting Alfred lead him to the living room.

“I will get you tea, Bruce, God, you are so pale!” He says enthusiastically and rushes out. Bruce wanted to protest as he doesn’t even know if he can still eat and drink regular food, what if he suddenly dies? Or vomits blood? Oh God. For a moment he thinks of Jeremiah. He hated to admit that in a way he was right, he needed to learn about himself in order to survive this transformation. Oh dammit, he swears again.

He isn’t even close to understanding how much worry and stress Alfred had to go through for him. It was always him who would suffer for Bruce’s mistakes and choices and he never complained about doing so. Jesus. Bruce considers glamouring him, but… what if it doesn’t work? What is going to be his excuse? In general, what is he going to say? _Oh I’m sorry, Jeremiah Valeska turns out to be a blood sucking madman and I almost willingly offered myself to him and well then became somewhat the same?_

This couldn’t have been a more perfect night, could it?

Alfred almost runs into the room, holding a cup of tea, stirring it.

“With honey, just as you like it.” He hands it to Bruce, smiling. Bruce tries his best to fake whatever he was feeling, it was the least he could to, not to upset Alfred even more.

Alfred sat down on Bruce’s right, sighing. He was certainly not the only one feeling anxious here and after a few moments of silence passed he started.

“Is there something you would like to tell me, Bruce?” He says in a much more serious voice than before. He didn’t bother blaming Bruce or saying what position he put him into, he never talked about himself or focused on negative feelings he has to experience for Bruce. He only cared for the boy to be okay.  
Bruce eyes the tea and chuckles nervously before putting the cup to his lips and carefully lifting it. He’s scared. But…

Nothing happens. He releases a breath. At least the tea tastes the same as always.

“I uh…” He tries to make something up. Deep inside he wants to share everything with Alfred, he thought he’d understand but… it would just be more stress for the man. For Christ’s sake, he has given this boy everything, his whole life! No, he throws the idea aside.

“Uh… I just felt stressed for some reason,” _oh shit you are such a bad fucking liar_. “I needed to take a walk under the stars to find peace and I didn’t want to wake you up, I’m sorry I was so stupid, I must have freaked you out.” _Bruce, you are so pathetic_.

Alfred chuckles.

“I’m just happy you are here, Master B., I was already considering the worst scenarios in my head, you know, with all the Jeremiah Valeska thing going on…” Bruce chokes on his tea and spits it on the carpet. Alfred’s words get stuck in his throat.

“I assure you Jeremiah has nothing to do with this, I am fine.” Bruce says, ignoring his weird behavior and placing the cup on the coffee table. He was scared to make eye contact with Alfred and he knew he would notice that since Bruce and him were very close, they were used to tell each other everything. They were family.  
  
Alfred’s left eyebrow rises and his eyes narrow in an almost funny way, but Bruce can’t find anything funny right now.

“Are you sure you are… alright? It’s cold outside and you left with your thinnest coat, maybe you caught a cold or-”

“I’m fine!” Bruce spits out angrily. _Jesus control yourself you loser, what are you doing!_

He wants to cut his tongue under his sharper teeth, anything to shut himself up, he’s getting out of control. And he does. He can feel his own blood rush into his mouth and remembers the taste of it. Oh, the sweet iron, the bitter, the heaven! It tasted the same as his first victim’s, no surprise when it’s now mixed with it.

Suddenly the world glitches and he can hear something throbbing. It’s a silent and regular flutter and he thinks he had heard it before. But where? He wants to hear more of it, it’s like his favorite kind of music, brushing his ears and sending shivers down his spine. Oh, so pleasant.

He can hear Alfred talking, but he can’t separate the words. It’s all like one, long phrase that he can’t understand. His vision is blurring and he tries to understand where the sound is coming from. He feels himself leaning closer to Alfred and he doesn’t know if he’s actually doing it or if it’s just in his mind, but the sound is coming from there. It’s as if Alfred was beating a drum, but no, it was more silent and calm, so…. relaxing. And then… It occurs to him. It’s his heart. That’s where he heard it before! It’s different, from the man’s he drank blood of ;it’s so much calmer, regular.

Bruce thinks that he is seeing visions because now he can feel a neck in his hands, blood pumping under the layer of the pale skin, oh and he wants it so bad! .He imagines himself leaning closer to it, first brushing his nose, smelling the aroma of it. Then his teeth join the party, first softly and gently they ghost over the skin, not causing any damage to it but then there is a slight pressure and they break through the flesh so smoothly and easily, is this how it feels to enter the gates of heaven?

The liquid he’s longing for so much gushes into his mouth and here are the butterflies in his stomach again, their wings flutter so quickly but pleasantly inside of him. Oh, and the drum! It’s even louder now, it vibrates inside of him, making him shake.

His pleasure is interrupted by something… No, by someone. It’s a low man voice and it’s saying something…

 _Sssstop…._ It goes. Bruce doesn’t understand what’s going on, stop what? What is happening?

Suddenly he feels himself being pulled away from his fountain of blood and the throbbing almost disappears. He felt as if waking up from a trans, his head swimming, dizziness in his whole body. Someone is holding him by his hair, head leaned back. He snaps his eyes open just to see Jeremiah fucking Valeska blocking him from taking what he needs.

Jeremiah must have gone home because he was wearing different clothes. Well, technically. It was his usual style; he even had a hat on. Of course, there must be red gloves and a dark blue jacket. Who’s Jeremiah Valeska without all these assets?

He hears him laugh in a devilish manner.

“Well well well, Bruce Wayne taking what he wants, but what’s new really?” He smirks and Bruce tries to break free. He’s surprised when Jeremiah lets him go. Bruce is ready to attack again, rip that beautiful throat out and eat whoever owns it alive, but…

Oh Jesus Christ.

As he rushes into the blood he realizes who’s blood it is. He looks at two brown, terrified eyes, so wide and full of confusion. Disappointment.

Bruce collapses on the floor. He falls on his knees as his face turns into somewhat close to a skeleton, for the second time this evening he failed and the tears gush out of his eyes. He was damning himself inside, calling himself a monster, a loser, a fool and all other kinds of words, but Jeremiah didn’t seem to think that they have time for that. Bruce felt his hand on his shoulder.

“Shhh, Bruce, look at me, please,” He asks softly and turns Bruce’s chin to face him. “I can still help him, hm? I can fix this, but listen… You can’t run from me every time your true nature shows because you see where that leads, huh? Poor Alfred had to suffer for our both’s mistakes and now, he doesn’t deserve it, does he?” The only part of the sentence that Bruce cared about was the one that stated that Jeremiah can help Alfred.

“Jeremiah, please, just help him, I beg you.” Bruce cried, burying his face into Jeremiah’s shoulder.

“Shh, I will, I will. And remember that you can help him too, here, watch this.” Jeremiah whispers and stands, leaving Bruce on the floor.

He walks up to Alfred and looks him in the eye. The old man wasn’t even strong enough to complain or fight Jeremiah but gladly he only had good intentions towards him this time. Jeremiah eyed the wound that Bruce made and had to be very strong to control himself and not say what a great job he’s doing. Instead, without breaking the eye contact he presses his wrist to his own lips and bites down. Bruce turns his face to see what’s going on.

“I know that we didn’t get along well in the past, but lets call this a reunion. Now, this might not be the most pleasant thing you’ve ever done but I recommend drinking before the wound closes and you bleed out.” Jeremiah stretches out his wrist. Alfred doesn’t like this at all. Poor man doesn’t understand what this is all about, but there was no time to complain. He didn’t. Jeremiah let out a weird noise when his wrist connected with Alfred’s and he tasted the iron.

There was no pleasantness in Alfred’s way at all. And surprisingly, Jeremiah wasn’t enjoying this either. But he had to do this, for Bruce.

“Is this going to help him heal?” Bruce sobs.

Jeremiah leans his head back to face him.

“It is, my dear, it is.”

“Then why didn’t you let me do it?” He asks.

“Because, Bruce, I know better and I thought that should have been clear by now, hm? Stop being so stubborn. I understand that you grew up getting all of your needs satisfied, getting whatever you want, but right now you have a new life and I am the only one who knows how to get you through the day successfully and with less incidents like this.” Jeremiah explains. There was now humanity in his voice that wasn’t here before. Who knew, maybe he really honestly wanted to help Bruce?

Jeremiah pulls his wrist away. “Great, now, how about you, Mr. Pennyworth get some good and deep sleep, huh? We can figure out the why’s and what’s when we are all conscious and relaxed, how about that?”

Bruce hated to agree with Jeremiah, but he was right. Alfred needed to know what’s going on, Jesus what a day it was. He deserves a trophy at this point. And he hasn’t said a single bad word about Jeremiah or Bruce? Golden patience. Bruce offers Alfred his hand and leads him to the bedroom, supporting him by warping his hand around his neck. The wound he made already started healing and Bruce just hoped it won’t leave a scar.

He hated himself for this night.


	5. Getting to know yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explaining is always hard.

Bruce could barely sleep during the night. He stayed in the same room as Alfred on a terribly uncomfortable couch. He had to make sure he doesn’t get into a trouble, who knows what Jeremiah might come up with on a boring night. He left him downstairs, not even caring about his amenities or comfortable stay.

Bruce checks the watch. _8:39_

Alfred usually wakes up at 7, makes breakfast and tea for Bruce but he surely won’t bother the rest now for such things. As quietly as he can, he stands up and checks up on his butler. Hell of a night it was for him, Bruce can only hope he’s having good dreams, about something that does not involve him getting drained to death. Not by his sweetest boy, at least. Bruce knew he was an adult, but such things can never be forgotten. Not the love and care Alfred shared with him all these years. And Bruce still ended up where he is now. With a madman in his house. Not only a madman, a blood draining madman. And oh dear, he’s becoming one too!

The wooden door cracks as Bruce opens it. He rushes down the stairs, hoping to find Jeremiah resting somewhere in the living room, but he is nowhere to be found. Bruce checks the living room, the bible and both guest rooms, but he wasn’t in any of those. A part of him was disappointed as he had a ton of questions and well, a few complaints and things in general to say, but it seemed that Jeremiah couldn’t care any less.

Even being a vampire Bruce can’t refuse that usual English breakfast tea with honey and milk, it would have been a shame to lose such a delicious drink. That was nearly the only thing to be happy about. The weather outside was completely damned. Coldness, rain, wind – all the things Bruce couldn’t stand. He was sensitive to temperature changes as a… human. Season change means a fever. But, not anymore, ironically.

As soon as he steps into the kitchen room he notices… oh. Jeremiah. Dammit.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” He greets Bruce who seemed to be scared by such an unexpected… pleasant guest. He sighs, putting on a kettle.

Bruce eyes the man. He seemed to feel pretty comfortable at his home as he held a cup of coffee in his hands and wore Alfred’s flip flops reading this mornings paper. How nice.

“Sorry, had to borrow those since I don’t wear those in my house.” He says putting the cup down and looking at Bruce through the top of the paper, his pale eyes fixed on Bruce’s as if he was waiting for approval.

“Sure, no problem.” Bruce grins, sarcastically of course, but there was no point in arguing since there is no way you can win a debate with Jeremiah Valeska. Even in your own house where you are the king.

“Feeling well, I trust?” Jeremiah inquires.

 _How funny_ , Bruce thinks but chooses to play along. _No point in arguing, remember?_

“So-so.” He replies shortly, but honestly. Jeremiah however didn’t seem to be satisfied with such answer and lowers the paper, revealing his pale face. _Oh_.

“So-so?” He smirks, narrowing his eyes. “I would say with the amount that you drank tonight you should be feeling more youthful than ever, no?”

He really was a bad joker. Bruce doesn’t reply as if he would he would probably just drop another insult and this would quickly turn into a pointless argument that no one would benefit from.

Bruce sighs, opening a drawer to look for a teaspoon.

“I wanted to talk to you about something that is not pointless jokes, Jeremiah.” He pours the boiling water into the cup and stirs the tea with honey. Even with his back facing Jeremiah he could feel that evil smile digging into his spine.

“I’m all ears, Bruce.” Jeremiah could hide that gloat if he wanted, but he didn’t.

“I wanted to talk about… Well you said there is more than I know. I want to know.” Bruce says, sitting down. He sips his English tea and feels blessed as the warm liquid goes down his throat. It was his favorite drink ever since childhood. So sad that it might change.

“Indeed, Bruce, indeed.” Jeremiah sips his drink too as if he was a mirror, mimicking Bruce’s actions. Bruce eyes the cup and it’s nothing else than black coffee in it. As black as his soul. “What do you want to know?”

The question is harder than you might think. Bruce would feel embarrassed to ask about myths so he had to think of something more original and less ridiculous. Jeremiah chuckles out of nowhere.

“Myths? Myths are myths, Bruce. No, you won’t burn in sun and you certainly don’t need to sleep in a coffin. You can remain a loyal Christian and look at crosses for as long as you want to and enjoy a meal that has garlic in it. In fact, you can enjoy any meal you want, but blood will have to remain your main food for at least 5 years from now until you get used to it completely. Later you’ll need to feed less and less often.” Jeremiah spills everything out before Bruce could even ask any questions. Well, at least he could eat his favorite garlic bread, right?

“Would you please stop doing that?” Bruce, asks annoyed.

“Doing what?” Jeremiah knew perfectly what Bruce was talking about but he couldn’t miss the opportunity to play with him and cheer him up as he was a moody little bastard.

“Messing! With my mind, stop listening to what I’m thinking!”

“You can do that too.” Jeremiah takes another sip as Bruce freezes. He can?

“How?”

“Oh, so you want to get into my head but won’t let me look into yours, hm? I have nothing to hide from you, but it has to be trust from both sides in this game.” He says and Bruce has to admit, you don’t get an opportunity to take a peak into an insane man’s head so often. Imagine if psychiatrists had that opportunity. If GCPD did. Endless power.

Bruce chuckles.

“I trust you. In a way. I just don’t want you picking around my head while I’m having my morning tea, do you mind?” He says and it doesn’t come out as angrily as he expected it too. Jeremiah was right, they needed to get in the mood and trust each other completely for things like this. This was no simple human chit chat talk.

“So… can you show me?” Bruce asks. Jeremiah smiles at him.

“Sure. However, know that I can prevent you from sneaking into my mind. I can feel it because I’m stronger and I can easily push you out if I want to.” Bruce nods. He didn’t completely agree with this kind of inequality, but what could he do?

“Remember how you listened to the man last night?” Bruce wishes he didn’t. “Good, well, it’s nearly the same with me, just I’m not… as alive so you can’t connect to me through the heartbeat or breathing, it’s easier if you take my hand, hm?” He offers Bruce to put his hand into his palm which was lightly bigger and white as snow. He agreed and if he was human he would notice the colder temperature but he didn’t as he was just the same as Jeremiah. To a vampire human’s skin can be hot just like vampire’s skin is cold to a human though they both don’t feel any different to themselves.

“Sweet. Now, do the same but imagine the first layer as my skin. Next there will be my emotions, if there will be any of course, and in the end you’ll come to thoughts. I’ll think of something that you could easily recognize.” Jeremiah squeezes Bruce’s hand as if something terrible was about to happen. Bruce could tell this wasn’t very pleasant process to him. Oh, of course it wasn’t. Jeremiah saw emotions as a weakness, as a weapon that you could use against the person themselves and he certainly was a master of doing so. But Bruce had no ill intention towards him, well, not unless he discovers something threatening, but would Jeremiah let him in if any of his plans would be in danger?

Bruce does as suggested. He shuts his eyes closed and focuses on the exact place where his and Jeremiah’s palms connect. Jeremiah’s skin is thin however no vein is visible through such color. Bruce imagines being able to see through it, imagines it transparent and conductible. He can feel himself slowly sinking into it, as water into a sponge. First it doesn’t seem to work but then he can feel it… Fell the red. It’s a now familiar feeling, a feeling of blood going down his throat, into his stomach, satisfying the fluttering hungry butterflies. It’s as if he himself would be feeding. Is that what pleasure feels like to Jeremiah? Is this what he wanted Bruce to feel? He just opens his eyes to make sure he’s not in a seeming trans like the last time and he isn’t draining some innocent soul. The corner of his eyelid rises and no, nothing inappropriate is happening. Jeremiah seemed to be just as focused as Bruce, tensed. If he didn’t know him any better he would think he was nervous.

He leaves the red behind as the next thing he feels is… pain. Pain? When in the hell was Jeremiah hurting?

“Think carefully, Bruce.” Jeremiah suddenly disturbs the silence and Bruce almost jumps.

Think carefully? He didn’t know what he meant but got on with the journey. The pain wasn’t unbearable but Bruce could feel it as if though it was his. And it was familiar, just as familiar as the taste of iron and the bitter on the tip on his tongue. He tries to lean into the sensation more, try to dig it, find out what exact place is hurting, what is the cause and suddenly it becomes clear! It’s not Jeremiah’s pain. It’s not Jeremiah who’s hurting, not Jeremiah that was bleeding, it’s a memory. A memory of him feeding on someone’s blood and it awaken something in Bruce and he wanted to know who it was that made him feel in such a special way because he could tell it wasn’t just someone.

He digs deeper. Past the layer of pleasure and pain and a tiny bit of fear he gets to actual pictures. Pictures of Jeremiah’s memory, his current and past thoughts. It was still hard to tell the exact words and phrases as obviously nor humans nor vampires don’t think in sentences. But there was one thought that revealed it all. Bruce knew that at this point he is holding Jeremiah’s hand so tightly that if it was a regular human’s it would break.

_“So sad that I can only taste you once, Bruce Wayne.”_

The words echo in Bruce’s mind, touching every sell in his body as if it was a poison not letting him breathe. He saw what Jeremiah did. His own throat, felt his own pain and his own pleasure and lived in the moment again. It was magical. Surreal. Maybe because it wasn’t indeed real, at least at the moment. A part of him misses the kisses. The power that Jeremiah held over him at the moment, the excitement and the thrill of being owned by someone, being all his and only his. Jeremiah was right about the masochistic part of him, it was there and Jeremiah knew how to unlock it. Even now, the power he has over Bruce is exciting. Maybe not as much as before, but it didn’t go anywhere and it was interesting. Thrilling. Chilling. Exhilarating.

Bruce didn’t even notice himself slowly loosening as he leaned more and more into the sensation. His hold was barely even tight anymore and his skin was only brushing against Jeremiah’s.

Suddenly something interrupts his pleasant moment and he almost gets annoyed when after opening his eyes he sees Alfred walking in.

He was looking surprisingly well. On the outside, at least. There was no telling on what was going in his head when he saw Jeremiah sitting in his kitchen, drinking coffee from his cups and oh dear… Wearing his flip flops! Something of a mix of confusion and anger fills the room and Bruce isn’t sure which one it is.

Alfred looked like a ticking bomb that was going to explode. His teeth were visibly clenched as he was holding back from not spiting something inappropriate.

“Good morning, Bruce.” He says, voice serious and low. Bruce isn’t any less lost than him and he freezes as Alfred seemed very upset. Jeremiah exhales loudly and dramatically, tapping the table nervously with his fingers.

Bruce was praying for Jeremiah not to say something stupid or insulting, or throw an inappropriate joke at Alfred. He eyed him warningly but he didn’t seem to be interested.

“How is your neck, Mr. Pennyworth?”

 _Christ_ , Bruce facepalmed. _Could he not?_

Alfred doesn’t answer or move. Nor did he seem disturbed by the question, but it wasn’t what he expected, either. Especially not from Jeremiah when the only interaction they had until now was that one time when Jeremiah commanded his men to torture him and oh, the one when Alfred beat him up. Nice things to remember, indeed.

Alfred coughs.

“Still hurts.” He mumbles somewhere under his breath. Bruce doesn’t know if he’s seen Alfred this annoyed, it must have been a while. He stands up and reaches out for Alfred to help him sit down but he flinches away, eyes full of that familiar startle, wide and warning Bruce not to take any step closer.

“Christ, Alfred, please, don’t be scared.” He pleads as softly as he can. Alfred doesn’t buy it. “I beg you. I’m not going to hurt you, Jesus, I wish I never did in the first place, but I want to explain everything.” A silent pause. Alfred looks at Jeremiah, showing even more distrust.

Bruce sighs. “And nor is he. Right, Jeremiah?” He turns to face Jeremiah who was just sipping his coffee, not disturbed by the situation at all. He shrugs. _Well at least he didn’t make a joke about it_ , Bruce thinks.

Alfred relaxes a little bit, releasing a breath. Jeremiah looks at him hungrily, the wound hasn’t healed completely but it was certainly doing better that it would be with out his help. It was inviting.

“Bruce, what is going on?” Alfred presses out. Jesus, the pain in his voice. Bruce feels it as his own, squeezing his heart as a cold hand.

“None of that would have happened if Bruce wouldn’t be as stubborn as he is, but you know how he is.” Jeremiah winks weirdly, taking another sip. Alfred inhales deeply as if he was going to go underwater and it was the last big breath and Jeremiah looks at Bruce, commanding him to explain everything in his mind.

 _Christ_.

“Okay. I’m going to tell you everything. From the beginning. But only if you promise to remain calm and don’t panic. It’s not easy for me to talk about it, too, but I trust you, Alfred.” A newly formed tear falls onto the wooden table, darkening the spot. “I love you.” He reaches for Alfred’s hands rested on the table and this time he lets him touch him, lightly. Bruce smiles.

“As you might have already figured out, there was no midnight walk. And no stress.” He starts, voice trembling. “Jeremiah invited me to meet him at the abandoned theatre and I agreed. I felt like I needed to and I don’t feel like explaining this, because there is no way to. All you need to understand is that I couldn’t stop myself from going there. That night I found out things about Jeremiah. New things. I don’t know how to put this for you… He… Needs blood to survive.” Bruce spills out the last words so quickly that he wasn’t sure if Alfred caught them, but if he did, the most difficult part was already said.

Alfred tenses and Bruce notices it immediately. “Please, don’t freak out. I… Let him have me.” Jeremiah smiles at the way Bruce formed the sentence. _You_   _really did let me have you._

The look on Alfred’s face was questioning. “Yes, he drank my blood. And I… I became like him.”

Now that you think the ‘blood to survive’ part might not have been the most difficult one. Bruce was the most nervous one here. Jeremiah was practically chilling as if this was just a boring story that he’s hearing for the tenth time.

Alfred remained calm. His eyes widened a little but he didn’t flinch or move in his seat.

“I was rash and left him before he could teach me self control and everything about everything. And… Well, this happened. I can’t explain how it happened, Alfred. You wouldn’t understand, you can’t understand. Such things are unexplainable. Even I myself can’t fully process everything and I know how hard it must be for you to…Go through this. You’ve always been so good for me. So caring. Honest. Loving. But that part of me is here and I can’t do anything about it, I promise to try my best to suppress it but… I can’t sometimes and I’m sorry. I will completely understand and won’t try to stop you if you try to leave. I can’t lie to you, I’m dangerous. And the worst is that with all the new powers there is nothing you can do to prevent this from happening again. And I’m not sure if I can. If anyone can. This doesn’t change the way I feel about our long friendship. I don’t love or hate you any less and I just… I just really wish you can forgive me.”


	6. Forgive?

There was a moment of dead silence in the room. So dead and silent that a little fly in the air was going to annoy Bruce to death. Though, would that be possible?

He was scared about what Alfred will say. He couldn’t imagine his life without him, no life without not just his most loyal butler, but his second father, his teacher, the only person who honestly cared about Bruce and that had no selfish reasons for it. He didn’t care about money, nor about Bruce’s riches. There always were rumors about Alfred working for Bruce just for money and fame, but he was a loyal part of the family for a long time now, ever since Bruce was born. And he never even thought of betraying them. Bruce was the one to do it.

He looked at Alfred’s frozen eyes, he looked like a senseless statue with no faintest idea what the boy was talking about. Bruce sobbed as more tears were forcing their way out of his eyes.

“Please, say something.” He cries out. Jeremiah was annoyed by such pathetic emotions explosion. You could see his usually calm and emotionless face showing slight disgust, but _anything to calm them down_ , he thought and did not interrupt the two.

“I am not leaving you, Master B.” Alfred says finally and something in the air changes that all of the ones in the room can feel.

“Oh dear God, I… I’m so thankful. Throw anything you have to say in my face, Alfred, I’m more scared of your silence than your honest words.” Bruce says, moving one chair closer to his butler. He felt relieved.

“I am afraid, Bruce. Of you and of this. That doesn’t change the way I feel about our long years of friendship either, but… Are you always going to be like this? How are you planning to continue your life now?”

Bruce stills for a second. He honestly had no idea, but it shouldn’t be hard, right? The only thing that has really changed is his diet, plus now he has powers that can help other people, right?

“Yes, I understand, I am afraid too.” He glances at Jeremiah, waiting for some kind of response. He almost chokes when realises that he needs to say something.

“Well from my perspective, Bruce now has more opportunities than before and I’d be glad if I was him.” He says.

“Yes, from a perspective of a madman and a killer!” Alfred rages, standing up and pointing his trembling, bony finger at the pale face. “You did this to him, the boy didn’t have a choice and enticed him, to this darkness!”

Jeremiah remained calmer than ever as if he was secretly enjoying the sudden outburst, that dark look in his pale eyes scarier than ever yet not giving away any intentions.

“As hard as it is to believe, I am the superior one here. And so is Bruce here. We were just discussing his new abilities, weren’t we?” He approaches Bruce and he can feel Jeremiah’s dark thoughts digging into his, as a virus rewriting the files.

“Yes, Alfred, sit down please, you deserve everything just as I do, but I beg you not to overreact and don’t call the GCPD on this.”

“Yes, and if you do, he might as well use on of those abi-”

“Jeremiah!” Bruce interrupts, feeling an unnecessary remark coming. That was the thing with Valeska brothers. Both knew exactly how to drive people insane, their weak spots, how to annoy them and weaken their sanity, make it fragile. Bruce could take it, but he wasn’t sure if Alfred could and he wasn’t going to risk anything at this point anymore.

Both men fixed their eyes on Bruce’s.

“Stop, both of you. It’s been enough worry and intensity already, can’t we all just sit down and talk about what’s happening as sane, civilised people?” He wasn’t sure if sane was the right word to use but he knew Jeremiah would approve and it was important to satisfy the man somehow so that he causes no drama. Bruce offers Alfred to sit down and he does, sulky.

“Jeremiah, would you explain everything from the beginning, as I said, I want Alfred to know what’s happening to me. And so do I.” Bruce says as calmly as he can even though he’s still annoyed. Jeremiah smiles.

“Of course. Mr. Pennyworth, it might be hard for you to understand some things I say and the ideology, but I’m going to try. As Bruce has already mentioned, blood will be a necessary part of his diet from now on.”  
“How often and why?” Alfred is quick to interrupt.

“Every day and because he needs to.”

“How much?”

“Enough to get satisfied, don’t ask questions neither I or you can know the answers to. From what I’ve seen and my personal experience I would say a pint or so is fully sufficient for one day, but it’s different for everyone. Imagine it as water, you drink even a few times more of it in a day, a pint isn’t much as a healthy person can lose that much and don’t even notice. Regular food and drinks are allowed however they won’t bring him the satisfaction and satiety that only blood can.” Jeremiah explains. Alfred listens carefully and so does Bruce. He considered the idea of robbing blood banks, but how long can you last like that? Isn’t is it like feeding on semi-finished products all the time?

“How… are we going to get that amount of blood every single day, Jeremiah?”

“Hm, you see, it depends on you. For example I can’t stand cold blood, I need something fresh and new which is a big part of why I keep Ecco around. It’s not just the blood itself giving you the pleasure. It’s the pain, the emotion that you feed on, remember how you said you wanted to drain him to the last drop? That’s because it’s addictive. Blood ends and the emotion doesn’t, you can smell it, somewhere in the air, can’t you?” Jeremiah fixed his eyes on Bruce and if they would just look at Alfred… Oh dear God, the man was frightened by these things. Although no surprise when Jeremiah talks in such mysteriously dark manner, he can make any topic frightening.

“Can’t he get blood from a blood bank? Donors?” Alfred inquires.

“Sure he can get blood from a blood bank, the question here is if he can live a full-fledged life like that, I assure you he’ll want to taste some fresh product from time to time one way or another. I would say the most logical solution here is for him to find a donor, as I did. But as I said, there are needs that need to be satisfied that are not only the thirst. He must feel the excitement, the fear and fright and you can imagine those disappear when providing blood regularly.”

“Jeremiah, how do you know that it’s the same for everyone? We are still quite… different individuals, maybe you are the only one finding peace in other’s chaos and suffering?”

Jeremiah laughs as if it was a joke.

“Tell that to you last night’s self. Morals merely mean anything when you are thirsty. Thirsty for the emotion. It doesn’t mean that you can’t get satisfied by a regular donor though. For example I find roleplay or unexpected attacks very affect-”

“Okay, Jeremiah, I don’t need to know that, thank you.” Bruce cuts him off. Jeremiah throws a playful look at Bruce and winks. God, this man.

“Ah! And the teeth. You won’t need to walk around Gotham with sharpened canines and scare everyone, don’t worry, they only sharpen when you need them to. I can’t explain how to control it, but you’ll notice that as soon as you start feeding regularly.”  
Bruce makes sure that what Jeremiah is saying is true. And it was. He slid his tongue under the canines and they weren’t sharp at all, as normal as always. Alfred wasn’t fascinated by the topic at all but played along.

“Would I be a suitable for uh, his need?” Alfred asks and Jeremiah almost chokes but stops before it would look inappropriate.

“Bruce decides here, but I would say someone that has eh… Different kind of affection on him would be more suitable.”

_Cough._

_Wheeze._

_Silence._

Christ, Bruce wishes he didn’t need to do this. He facepalms, running his fingers through the hair on top of his head. Jeremiah feels the uncomfortableness in the air and enjoys it just a teensy bit. Ah, the sweet chaos.

“When it comes to mental and physical powers you can’t fly, but speed, supervision, better hearing and sensing are there. As for mental, you already know about glamouring-“

“What is that?” Alfred asks, confused and annoyed at the same time as he was kind of left out of the conversation.

“Oh, it’s an interesting little thingy.” Jeremiah smirks. “Would you like to see?” Jeremiah turns to Alfred.

“First I’d like to know what it is.” He doesn’t give in easily, leaning closer to Jeremiah’s side.

“It’s an ability letting me or Bruce get into someone’s consciousness, their mind and emotions and rewrite, change them. A handy ability especially when one doesn’t have a donor. I can show you how it works.” Jeremiah suggests again and Bruce senses something here.

“You aren’t trying to do something crazy, are you?” He narrows his eyes. Jeremiah giggles.

“No no, I’m just being helpful and helping all of us here explore everything the best as possible.” Bruce swallows but lets Jeremiah get on with the game. For some reason he didn’t think he would do something stupid as he needs to gain both, Alfred’s and Bruce’s trust, even if that’s for selfish reasons. And he wished that his intuition wasn’t wrong.

Jeremiah walks up to the butler. He looked superior, like a hunter looking at a prey as he was standing and Alfred was sitting, his face revealing the slight concern he was feeling. He looked small compared to Jeremiah.

“Think of something for me. Make it harder.” He commands, moving into Alfred’s personal space, closer to his face. God, he looked scary from such a close distance. Icy eyes, white skin, red as blood lips. No surprise.

Alfred thought of something that Jeremiah wouldn’t just guess accidentally. A number and a color: 2.19 written in blue.

Jeremiah was experienced at this and it was easier than anything else to push through the thin layer of the emotions into the current time thoughts. He didn’t need to look long as he found what the brain is focused on in a matter of seconds.

“Ah! 2.19 and blue.” Jeremiah shouts out, cheering. Alfred releases a breath when, thanks God, nothing unexpected doesn’t happen. “Interesting choice of the number as that is Bruce’s birthday, hm?”

Bruce had forgotten that himself and didn’t remember telling Jeremiah about his birthday but the man probably knew where he was 3 days ago at 3:45 p.m so Bruce shouldn’t be surprised at all.

Jeremiah couldn’t feel any more welcome in his house. He briskly washes the cup he just used, humming something under his breath that Bruce recognised as Mozart’s Lacrimosa. Of course, suitable taste of music for a man like Jeremiah.

“D minor. A beautiful masterpiece, imagine if we would still get that kind of beautiful music today. Absolutely stunning.” He praises the piece. It seemed totally out of topic but he knew no one would complain.

“So… Getting back to our talk. I would say the mind reading ability is pretty obvious at this point. Some can get mini visions of the future but that’s unlikely and also uncontrollable, can be dangerous because future is changing all the time and you can’t live your whole life thinking you know something when you really don’t.” Jeremiah sits down between Bruce and Alfred this time, on the one empty chair between them. Alfred flinches away a little.

“Now, I already told you about our special bond. The term is maker and progeny. The maker will always know the location of their progeny, feel their presence and emotions. I’ll know if you are in danger or the opposite. And so will you. You will feel me through the bond. However I’m the only one who’s commands you must obey, I must not answer to yours. And I also talked about my opinion of the whole thing. I am not a huge fan of commanding you around because I know you don’t like it and I want only the best for us and I’m happier if it’s consensual and there is no need for supernatural abilities.” He winks at Bruce as another mocking metaphor leaves his mouth.

“Bloody hell…” Alfred swears under his breath. It was hard to tell if he was damning the situation or Jeremiah. But in both cases it’s fair.

Before the pale man would throw something like ‘ _Oh, blood?_ ’ at Alfred, Bruce speaks up.

“That’s so much to remember…” he sighs. Jeremiah can’t help but giggle.

“You know, progenies are known to have the same weaknesses and strengths as their makers. I wonder what exactly I’ve given you that night.”

“Not the sense of humor, I hope.” Bruce laughs.


	7. I was an angel til you've beckoned

Bruce a tiny bit relieved as he saw Jeremiah’s wish to cooperate. They both had to change some things about themselves and sometimes hold back in order to get along, but that was only a positive experience for each and no wonder they’d learn from it. And benefit in a way.

Jeremiah and Bruce stayed in the kitchen after Alfred left for a nap, certainly there was too much information for him so Bruce didn’t complain and only encouraged the rest.

There was something still scary about being in one room with Jeremiah, even after it seemed they shared most intimate experiences, not every day you get an opportunity to taste Gotham’s famous villain’s blood and be in their head. Bruce hoped to finally understand the ways of the madman, maybe the immortality and the feeling of being untouchable was to blame, really, or maybe the realization that only killing and harming others is the only way to somehow feel alive? To feel anything at all? But how about the Jeremiah before then, where is he? He _was_ here, it wasn’t fake, no, not to Bruce. And he had to admit, he was developing warm and honest feelings for that side of Jeremiah. He didn’t really know if it was sexual or not, but it was indeed different from the experience with Selina or Silver, what if Jeremiah was just messing with his mind all this time? He could do that, easily, he knew that. And he still can.

Bruce’s wonderings were interrupted by something tingling. He even checked himself before realizing that it’s Jeremiah’s satisfied smirk piercing through his body cells. It’s fascinating how much a gaze can do. He could kill with it.

“You have always fascinated me, Bruce Wayne.” He lets out an almost inaudible giggle. “There was no any sort of intentional influence used on you, be sure. I could see it in your eyes though. The first time we met, I saw your honest fascination in my work. You were just as fascinated in me, I felt that little flutter of your heart, that sharp breath caught in your throat that everyone else missed, every time you spoke to me. Soon you’ll come to realize that arousal and love are the easiest to recognize after anger and sadness. But there is only a thin line separating those, you see, that is why so many people get driven insane after falling in love, get disappointed after trusting someone. But you, ahh… As strong as your emotions are you never gave in to me, did you? Oh, not until now, of course.” He praises himself as Bruce almost stops breathing, remembering the exact feeling after their first handshake, that straight and never ending eye contact. Oh, those eyes! Wouldn’t you just want to drown in them forever? Let that pale but dark at the same time abyss sink into you?

_Remember, if you stare long enough into the abyss it looks straight back at you._

“But you will give in again, Bruce Wayne,” The abyss says temptingly. “and again, and again. You can’t answer to me. And neither can I.” Jeremiah whispers the last four words as if it was a secret, and it probably was. Was this a confession? An invitation? An offer?

 Ah, and there. It. Was. Silence. Dammit, Bruce hated it so much. The silence. Every single time he’d feel that little butterfly in his stomach flutter it all would become silent. As if love was an emotion from a different universe, taking you there every time you’d let it show.

 A sudden need to feel Jeremiah’s red lips strikes to Bruce. Christ, the butterfly was so trapped and seemed to not be happy about not being let fly free. He needed to tense his muscles and clench his teeth so hard that it’d make a sound to stay still for any longer.

  _“But how long can you take? You will give in.”_ Jeremiah whispers to Bruce’s soul. It was all he needed to snap.

 He unintentionally used his super speed to appear in front of pale man and pull him closer by the collar. He didn’t put on any fight, nor did he lean in closer. It was as if he wanted to stay neutral, letting Bruce do all the work though it was no secret that Jeremiah would be the one to take control in the end.

 “I hate you, Jeremiah, Christ, I wish it was easier to hate you more but I can’t.” He spits in his pale face and pulls him even closer for a deep, longing kiss. He wasn’t sure exactly why Jeremiah’s tongue tasted of iron and blood but when he felt something sharp pressing into his own flesh, piercing his tongue, drawing a moan out of him, mixing with the ones caused by the lack of air that somehow kicked in even though he didn’t quite need to breathe. He realized just how much Jeremiah was trying to hold himself, too. They shared their blood for the second time and God, it was a blessing that they both needed.

 Bruce pulls away from the kiss for just a moment, panting. “It is amazing how much you can hide under that damn smile.” He swears and feels Jeremiah doing that again, just for the sake of mocking.

 “It is amazing how you can’t hide anything at all from me, Bruce Wayne.” He pushed his tongue in again, not wasting much time on words that didn’t give as nearly as much pleasure as Bruce’s blood in his mouth, again, after just a day of waiting.

 Not surprisingly at all, Jeremiah gained control over the kiss soon, dominating. He was the one deciding where Bruce’s tongue would go and where it wouldn’t. He would trap it between his teeth, forcing out pleasured whimpers as it gets sliced by his teeth again and again. The wounds aren’t healing as fast as they would at Jeremiah’s age so he lets the pain sink in before he can bite once more.

 It seemed as if this could go on for the whole eternity, with both men’s mouths so hungry and dry, begging for a wet kiss.

 “I knew you weren’t straight.” Jeremiah decided that the statement was worth interrupting the kiss. Bruce didn’t let him say any more, attacking him again.

 It only took a moment or two for Bruce to move Jeremiah towards the kitchen wall, the thud that occurred was loud enough for Alfred to hear and both’s tongues froze as they waited for steps, but nothing happened.

 They giggled at how naïve and unexperienced they looked.

 Bruce had to admit, Jeremiah pressed against a wall, hair messy and fangs showing was an incredibly hot sight. He could now understand how intimidating he looked to the other, how much he longed for him. His eyes were deep and seemed to not have an ending. Bruce can feel the hunger, the same kind of hunger he felt past night, his sharpened canines tickling his tongue. It seemed as if Jeremiah was just a regular human, letting Bruce hold him trapped like that, not showing any signs of fight.

 The corners of Jeremiah’s lips rise slightly. Bruce recognized it as the ‘I know what you are thinking about’ kind of smile.

 “Bite me.” Jeremiah drops.

 “Excuse me?” Bruce pulls away, offended.

 “No, dummy, bite me, literally.” He says, grabbing brunette’s wrists and dragging him closer to himself, as if he was going to whisper a secret into his ear he got closer to it, intimately. “I know you want to.” He whispers. “And so do I.”

 Bruce would hesitate, but who he is to decline such invitation. Jeremiah didn’t mention anything about feeding on other’s like himself blood. But it wasn’t time for questions now.

 Bruce’s gaze fell down from Jeremiah’s eyes to the crook of his neck, the pale matte skin. It seemed as if he would chip a fang on it, as if it was made of stone. He leaned closer to it, just to make sure. And of course, it was just as soft as Jeremiah’s hand. Not as hot and fresh as human’s but just as tempting and hard to resist. As if some spell was put on him, he sinks his teeth into it, not worrying about Jeremiah’s comfort at all. He knew that he might enjoy the pain and ache even more.

 He pulled, once, twice. And oh God, dear God, did he wish he could pull away. He realized how risky it was doing it here, Alfred could come back at any time and it would just Be another trauma for him. And damnit, the blood tasted too good to be someone’s as dead as Jeremiah.

 Twisted love it is.


	8. Make me bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Red looks good on you, sweetheart.” He hisses, his dangerously sharp canines, scary even to Bruce, getting closer to his ear, brushing over the earlobe lightly. “I want to see you bleed.” He says.

Through the fountain of blood Bruce couldn’t tell if it was him moaning this loudly or was it the owner of the blood. He lost track of how much he’s taking but Jeremiah didn’t seem to be concerned about it either, enjoying the two daggers in his neck. His hands were warped around Bruce, holding him tight for both, his own and Bruce’s comfort.

Jeremiah winces in pain, a high pitched sound escaping his wet lips when Bruce bites the same spot again, leaving quite a hole in it. While with the human he was gentle, tried not to ruin the fragility, he knew he could play around with Jeremiah for a bit, make him suffer and taste his own poison and at the same time get satisfied himself as well as test the limits.

Jeremiah swears under his breath. “Time to switch, darling.” He says before moving too fast for Bruce to even catch a breath and in a moment they are on the opposite sides, with Jeremiah holding Bruce by his silk soft neck pressed to the wall, the blood on his chin still wet and fresh. He flicks his tongue out to lick it off, his teeth showing when he smiles at Jeremiah while gasping for air at the same time.

“Red looks good on you, sweetheart.” He hisses, his dangerously sharp canines, scary even to Bruce, getting closer to his ear, brushing over the earlobe lightly. “I want to see you bleed.” He says.

There was a moment of silence. As if Jeremiah was unsure about what he was going he stopped and just breathed for a few moments, making the hair on Bruce’s neck stand. Bruce wanted to talk, but with Jeremiah’s right hand still safely fixed around his neck all he could do was gasp, at this point he was choking and was pretty sure he was about to pass out. He kicked Jeremiah in the belly with his knee, but instead of hurting him he just felt like hitting a wall. When the corners of his vision began to fade, Bruce slowly drowning into unconsciousness, Jeremiah freed the grip letting him suck in a breath yet not letting him move more than an inch, blocking the only exit with his body.

“76 seconds, impressive.” He says, giggling.

When Bruce finally recovered the lost air he swallowed.

“What, where you trying to kill me-”

“Shh…” He silences the brunette by pressing his lips to his, not quite kissing, just touching. “I was just testing you. You’ll learn your limits, but at the moment the worst that could happen is you passing out.” He explains, calming down the other. Even though Bruce wasn’t quite sure what Jeremiah meant, he sensed a weird feeling that he would name as satisfaction, or maybe pleasure? At some point he enjoyed the little play, the feeling of Jeremiah in control, of his blood in his system, his hand on his throat.

“Jeremiah, ple-”

“Mmmm…” He doesn’t let Bruce finish, using the same hand he used to choke him to turn his head slightly to the left, targeting the neck. “I know, honey, I know.” He whispers and places a light kiss on the lower part of his neck, near the collar, then traveling up to the part where his neck connects with the face. He teasingly bites down on the jawbone, not enough to draw blood, but to make him even more needy, to make him beg for it. It certainly wasn’t Valeska style to make things easy.

“Jeremiah, just do it, for Christ’s sa-”

He is cut off by Jeremiah’s hand this time, his palm covering his mouth.

“Who let you talk?” He asks. Only then did Bruce realize what kind of a game Jeremiah had planned out for both. He grinned under the pale palm so that Jeremiah would know he approves. He answered with a smile, coming back to his business. “You are still partially human. Still attached to your pain and suffering, still looking for something to hold on to. I understand it. Good thing I can give you what you want. You want to be hurt, mm?”

Jeremiah warps a strand of Bruce’s hair around his finger, pulling his head back slightly. If they were to play this, he needed to understand Jeremiah’s rules and know that questions must be responded to.

“I do.” Bruce breathes. He had his eyes shut at this point, afraid for Jeremiah to see how helpless he was under his mercy, how much he _needed_ to be under his mercy, how much he was begging for it. He was embarrassed for himself too. Especially when he felt the hand that is not playing with his hair slide down his body, going down and down and it was so close to the spot he needed it to be when…

“Master B!”

They froze and Jeremiah pressed his lips together to suppress a laugh that would ruin the impression of Bruce and him still disagreeing. Bruce however couldn’t help but chuckle. He pressed a kiss to Jeremiah’s red lips, so short and unsatisfying that he thought Jeremiah wouldn’t let him move a bit and make him do it properly, but he let him go to the stairs, see what was concerning his butler.

 “Yes, Alfred?” He shows himself, fixing his messed up hair, breathing heavily. No thanks to Jeremiah.

 Alfred freezes when he faces the boy, looking down the stairs at him as if he was a ghost. First, Bruce just furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding what is concerning him so much, when-

 “Shit.” He remembers and rushes to the kitchen to wash off his maker’s blood off his face and neck. He finds Jeremiah laughing and almost crying, trying his best to suppress any sound of escaping his lips. He obviously knew Bruce left all dirty but couldn’t miss an opportunity to prank him.

 “I hate you, Jeremiah.” He murmurs under his breath through the flow of water.

 “I know you do.” Jeremiah smirks and kisses Bruce’s head, fixing his hair. “I’ll be upstairs.” He whispers in his ear and leaving before Bruce could stop him. As soon as he does, he can feel Alfred’s gaze tickling the exposed skin of his neck, curiosity and confusion smelling from a distance.

 Alfred seemed too shocked to ask anything so Jeremiah sighed when passing through him.

 “Nothing to be concerned about, Mr. Pennyworth.” He winks at him, and it was the ‘don’t ask any more questions’ kind of wink that made him flinch away from Jeremiah. He just giggled, pleased at the fear the man still felt.

 Jeremiah’s jaw dropped when he saw the second floor; the hall was so long, that he considered it being more confusing that his own maze. He had no idea which room was Bruce’s so he just chose the closest to the stairs and left the door open.

 Bruce sighed after washing off the red paint, drying his chin with the darkest towel he could find.

 Alfred stepped into the kitchen.

 “Bruce, he is not going to live here, is he?” He asks, genuinely concerned and as quietly as he could so that the man upstairs wouldn’t hear, but of course he did.

 

Bruce swallowed hard, licking his teeth and checking if his canines are gone.

 “He’s ah… I trust him enough to let him stay here for at least the first week of my… Transformation.” He chooses the words carefully, knowing that Jeremiah is listening to each one and looking for a reason to complain later. Alfred furrows his eyebrows, ready to protest. “Please, I know that he may not be the best roommate but I need him for now. I’m not willing to risk your health and safety once more, I need him.” He pleads, taking Alfred’s hand into his.

 “How do you know that you are safe here with him?”

 “Alfred, he won’t hurt you. He needs me and he knows that if he hurts you he will lose me too. He will behave, I promise.” He calms him down and his eyes fall to the still not completely healed wound on his neck. Now there were just two red scabs, barely visible anymore. His heart sank.

 “I-…” He lets out a pathetically sounding noise, more like a sob but without tears. He slowly reaches out with his hand for the hurt spot, waiting for Alfred to stop him, but he doesn’t. He runs his trembling fingers them over the sensitive area. “Does it still hurt?” He asks.

 “Not much.” Alfred answers, his voice shaky. He didn’t fully trust Bruce for a reason, he knew he might get triggered by the topic of blood and decided to stop starring at the spot as it was getting suspicious.

 “You’ll be okay. Jeremiah wouldn’t have helped you if he had any intention of harming you, even if it’s for his own reasons.” He smiled at Alfred and sighed. “It stopped raining, maybe you should get some fresh air, hm?” He suggests.

 “That’s a good idea, Master B., be careful.” Alfred smiles back and warns Bruce before heading to the entrance hall for his coat. Bruce was happy about how everything turned out and God knows he couldn’t have a better person to look after him than Alfred.

 It doesn’t take long for Alfred to leave and as soon as Bruce hears the door get shut, he releases a breath.

 “Jeremiah, I meant what I said!” He yells and heads towards the stairs. He swore he could hear Jeremiah chuckle.

 “Really? You don’t even know where my room is.” Bruce smirks when he finds Jeremiah comfortably resting on a guest room bed, his head layed on his hand and legs spread wide. All comfortable and cozy, right?

 Bruce eyes him and Jeremiah catches his look with his pale eyes, as if commanding him to come join him.

 “If you think you can solve this by making me-” The last words get stuck in his throat when he can feel himself being slowly dragged forward by an invisible force. _Shit_.

 “Making you what?” Jeremiah stands up just to lay down again, this time bringing Bruce down with him and pinning his hands. “Bruce, you are a needy little thing, answer, what do you want me to make you do?”

 Bruce has never been this aroused and excited in his life. Not that he had an opportunity. Sure he had loved Selina, but there was something missing in her, something that Jeremiah had. Bisexuality was new to him and now that he is an adult he is willing to explore it further.

“Whatever you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I have no idea where our boys are going buuut...


	9. Finding peace in the chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah decides to show Bruce how strong he is.

“Bruce, you are a needy little thing, answer, what do you want me to make you do?”

Bruce has never been this aroused and excited in his life. Not that he had an opportunity. Sure he had loved Selina, but there was something missing in her, something that Jeremiah had. Bisexuality was new to him and now that he is an adult he is willing to explore it further.

“Whatever you want.” Bruce whispers, his voice desperate and shaky. Jeremiah raises one of his eyebrows, and Bruce sees something sinister hiding behind those pale eyes, something that was ready to tear him into pieces and put back together later.

“Whatever _I_ want?” He repeated. It only made Bruce more excited, the obscurity and mystery that only Jeremiah could make this exciting. He moved closer to Bruce’s face, inhaled his scent and kissed his hungry lips. “And what if _whatever I want_ is to make you bleed, make you beg me to stop and see you desperate. Is that what you want?”

The words sank deep into Bruce’s brain, as if they were electric, making him shake in excitement. He tensed his muscles visibly and clenched his teeth, holding back a moan. And Jeremiah hasn’t even started.

“I do.” He answers shortly, barely parting his lips. Jeremiah smiled menacingly, thinking of something that would satisfy both parties. It didn’t take long for him to think of something that made his teeth show, canines joining the normal human looking teeth.

“Stay here.” He commanded and jumped off the bed and ran out off the room. He left Bruce panting and wondering, yet happy that he could get a break and get ready for whatever was coming. Never ever has Bruce pictured himself wanting for Jeremiah Valeska to make him his, nor has he ever dreamed of this kind of electric feeling shaking every single existing cell in his body, making his cold heart jump in excitement and arousal. He was pretty sure it all could be blamed on the bond, the old Bruce would never want this. _The old Bruce_ , is that what it is? Is he changing, is it going to be that he won’t recognize himself in the mirror soon? Is Valeska bringing up his worst, finding his deepest and darkest desires and pulling them from the very bottom of his soul? Probably. Did Bruce have any strength to fight? No.

There was something unnaturally hot about Jeremiah, Bruce wondered if it’s for forever, if this will ever go away, the fascination and the need to feel his maker’s teeth on his throat again, the need to feel his and his only, the need to be owned by someone stronger than him. Not that Bruce was weak, he was too strong to ever feel like he’s not going to be lonely forever, that he will have to live his whole life only lurking in the shadows and hiding his true intelligence from the world. There were not many people that could relate, except for Jeremiah.

And here the pale man came back, holding something in his hand that Bruce couldn’t see very well as he was laid down and Jeremiah was on the opposite side of the bed than his face. He eyed his progeny as if it was just another human he’d drain, another heart he’d hear slowing down just because of his dark desire.

“You are beautiful.” He says so surely, as if it was a scientific fact. “If you’ll let me, I will make you experience the pain at it’s best. You are not human anymore, yet you feel like one. I can stab your heart and you won’t ever bleed out. If you can feel like you won’t take any more all you need to do is to use our safe word, it’s going to be blue and you won’t forget it because this room has lots of this color, do you understand?” He asks, making sure that whatever was going to happen was going to be agreed to and stopped by Bruce at any time. Though Jeremiah wasn’t sure he’d ever want him to.

 He finally moved across the bed, closer to Bruce. Now that he was just a few inches away, Bruce could see what Jeremiah brought from downstairs.

 It was a small kitchen knife, well sharpened and ready to cut through whatever was given. He swallowed hard and Jeremiah, after noticing the fright in his progeny’s eyes, buried his face in his hair, placing a kiss there.

 “Don’t be scared. We will go slow and as your maker I can feel when you are close to you ah… ostensible death. If you loose too much blood you will pass out for a few seconds but come back to life soon, but you can tell me to stop in our agreed way at any time, you hear me?” He breathes into the boy’s hair and there is something so calming about it, Jeremiah’s lips brushing his curls and tickling his skin. “You will find yourself enjoying this at the end, it’s all about experience.” He says and finally pulls away to look into the dark brown eyes. “Now, turn around and lay on your belly, face down.” He commands and gives Bruce some space to move. He is surprised at the lack of fight he put on, the immediate obeyance. He kissed the back of Bruce’s neck to put him at ease, bring in some vanilla kind of relationship feeling before getting to the point. He watched as Bruce’s shoulders fell down as he relaxed and let Jeremiah take the lead.

Jeremiah couldn’t quite get on with the play when Bruce had this much clothes on. He didn’t even hesitate to cut through the shirt of his pajama’s, knowing that he will either buy a new one or has a ton of those in his wardrobe. Even though the knife didn’t contact with the boy’s skin, he winced as he thought it would. Jeremiah ran his index finger down Bruce’s spine.

 “Your back is so straight…” He whispers as he presses his lips on the lower part of it. It was something sweet to make Bruce focus on before bringing in a little spice. He picked up the knife from his side, and pressed the blade right in the middle of Bruce’s back, where the backbone was located. He put more and more pressure on to it, not releasing his lips from the lower back until the skin broke and made blood gush out of it. Jeremiah, surely, wouldn’t resist the urge to flick his tongue out and lick off the prize. He does so and travels up until he tastes the bitter and makes Bruce wince in pleasure. The wound wasn’t deep so it closed before Jeremiah could take 3 pulls. “How are you feeling?” Jeremiah whispers to his neck. Bruce exhales sharply, relaxing for a moment.

“Hot.” He says, sheets silencing him. Jeremiah nodded, figuring he’d need to get out some other adjective out of Bruce.

He licks off the blade, thinking of where the cut would hurt Bruce enough for him to squirm. He was obviously well trained and had a good tolerance for pain, just like Jeremiah. He put one leg over Bruce’s waist so that he practically sat on top of Bruce’s back, but he didn’t. He found Bruce’s hand and moved it so it’s stretched out on the bed and reachable for him. He separates, his fingers, putting his own into the gaps.

He leans closer to Bruce’s ear to say something.

“Be good and keep your fingers apart like that, can you do that?” Jeremiah request and Bruce nods. Not that he had a choice really. Jeremiah smiles and places a kiss on his cheek.

With the knife in his left hand he finds the spaces between Bruce’s fingers and cuts in the gap between his index and middle finger. Bruce gasps and wants to pull his hand away but Jeremiah is quick to catch it and keep it where it belongs. “Keep it there.” He asks once more and Bruce knows it’s better to do as his maker asks. Jeremiah cuts another space, then another until all of his left arm is bleeding and Bruce is arching his back, but hitting Jeremiah’s thighs that are limiting any kind of further movement.

“I want to see your fangs.” Jeremiah decides suddenly, laying his face down to face Bruce. “Open for me.” He asks softly and Bruce obeys immediately. He doesn’t even need to try to extract his fangs as they were already out due to the arousal and pain. Jeremiah smiles. “So pretty.” He compliments and presses his lips to Bruce’s right ear as the other was laid on the bed. “Bite your tongue.” He orders him and Bruce wants to protest. It’s one thing when someone does all the work for you, other when you need to hurt yourself and be strong enough to do so.  

Jeremiah raised one of his eyebrows. “If you won’t, I’ll use this knife to cut it myself, hm?” He says so calmly and sweetly, as if it was some normal and usual thing to say, as if he was used to this. And God knows, really, how many times he’s done this. At the same time that voice was too calm to not sound psychotic and threatening. The idea of a blade slicing his tongue, even if it’d heal quickly wasn’t acceptable to Bruce at all. He shut his eyes closed and placed his muscle under one of his canines and pressed down. It only took that weak of a push for the skin to break. He tensed.

Jeremiah pushed his tongue in his mouth to taste the blood, the excitement. As much as he tried to calm Bruce down, he could feel that same fear a night before, the one that was holding Bruce from becoming who he is now. It was so human-like and cute that Jeremiah could barely hold himself from smiling even at the thought of making him feel like that again.

While wiggling his tongue with Bruce’s wounded one, he took the knife and placed it under his progeny’s neck, right where the jugular vein would carry blood, heart pumping it faster and faster until the vein jumps out. He looks Bruce dead in the eye.

“Do you want it to be like that night again, sweetheart?” He speaks right into Bruce’s mouth, literally. He can barely find ant words.

“Yes, Jeremiah, please.”

There it was, the sweet plead Jeremiah was waiting to get out of Bruce, the part where Bruce can’t help but want more of it. Jeremiah is happy to help.

“Lean back for me?” He asks and moves his head above Bruce’s, puts his whole weigh on his back. If Alfred or anyone else would find them in this positions, they would probably think that Jeremiah was about to slice the brunette’s neck. However, instead of using the knife he decided to bring back some good memories and use his very own teeth 

Bruce did as asked, his head leaned back and his back locked in place by Jeremiah’s weigh. It reminded him of their first bite, it was something special to both as it was the rebirth of Bruce and the highlight of Jeremiah’s plans. Jeremiah sucked in the skin of his progeny’s neck, it didn’t taste as sweet as it did with the frantic heartbeat brushing his lips and the irregular breathing pleasing his ears, but it tasted of trust and what he could now describe as love and loyalty. The bond.

He can feel his fangs tickling his tongue and doesn’t wait long to sink them into the neck. A jolt of pleasure makes both tremble as Bruce winces in pain and Jeremiah groans at the taste of that rare B negative. It was just as sweet and delicate as Jeremiah remembered, as he dreamed. It hasn’t changed even though it was now mixed with his own and whoever’s blood he drank in the streets. The authenticity remained.

He let out quite a few loud groans, not hiding the pleasure that Bruce gave him. This was an unexplainable feeling, for a maker to feel his own child this close to him, sharing his blood, trusting him.

Soon enough he can feel Bruce getting closer to the point where he would have already passed out if he was still human, but he was holding on tightly to the thin thread of consciousness. All the other wounds had already healed, however this one doesn’t because Jeremiah kept deepening it by pressing harder and harder into it. Finally, he pulls away, panting. Bruce let his face fall onto the sheet, tainting the blue material with his blood.

“Christ…” He mumbles as if they had just had sex, but that was not needed for the creatures like them, blood sharing was even slightly more intimate than that, making both feel close and needed for once more 

Jeremiah smiles at the reaction.

“You really are magical.” He says, laying down next to Bruce. Bruce became concerned for all the blood and mess they made on the bed for just a second, he couldn’t let Alfred see this, what would he think? Exactly _that_.

“What are we going to do about the mess?” He asks, leaning on his elbows. Jeremiah purses his lips and thinks for a moment.

“You think your butler would call the GCPD on me for this?”

“No, I think he would beat you up, stab your eye and then maybe call the GCPD.” Bruce smirked and laughed at himself.

“Hm? You think he would do that?” Jeremiah asks, urging Bruce to lay his head on his chest. He can’t think of a better place to rest it on than his maker was suggesting so he did so, letting Jeremiah play with his hair once more.

“I adore your hair. When I was younger I wanted to have curly too.” He spoke longingly. “It was what separated me from Jerome, the hair. He had fluffier ones and I was dead jealous of him.” Bruce chuckled 

“Yes, I can picture you being an ass to your brother because of that.” He says, giggling. Jeremiah couldn’t help but look at Bruce as if he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Me? Could I ever?” He smiles, knowing that even joking about himself _not_ being a complete bastard wasn’t convincing enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate comments and kudos a lot <333 luv


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